Costume Fitting

Esperanza sits on the fake hospital bed in nothing but black lace and a stethoscope, cheeks flushed, waiting for her first scene on LA Hospital. Abigail Mac breezes in from wardrobe and clocks the fresh meat. "I wanted this so bad I would have fucked for the callback," Esperanza blurts, all nervous smile and ambition. Abigail smiles too, slow and knowing; she's been here two years and the shine never left for her. She tilts her head. "Speaking part or background?" "Just background," Esperanza admits. "But my casting director friend said-" "-she'll put in a word," Abigail finishes, voice low. "They all say that." She steps closer, fingers grazing the thin fabric over Esperanza's breast. "Want me to help make that word actually count?" Her other hand slides down, cups the warm cunt between Esperanza's thighs through damp panties. "Extra mile." Esperanza's breath hitches. Abigail leans in, breath hot on her ear. "Camera doesn't roll until I say the scrubs fit," she whispers. "So open those pretty legs and show me you can take direction." Fingertips slip beneath lace, press heat to slick heat. "Moan when it feels good, giggle if it doesn't, fuck knows we can use both on screen. Right now it's rehearsal." Esperanza shivers, caught between terror and hunger, and lets her thighs spread an inch wider. Abigail smiles wider. "Good girl." Pressure increases. The stethoscope swings gently between them.